Empty
by song-of-amethyst
Summary: Once upon a time, there was an empty young boy, sitting in a dark empty street, his empty eyes gazing at his empty hands which never held anything.- Translation of my French fic "Vide".


Once upon a time, there was an empty young boy, sitting in a dark empty street, his empty eyes gazing at his empty hands which never held anything. He could see the world, but the world couldn't see him. There was hardly anyone who would cast a look in his way. His own father never looked at him. His mother looked at him and saw his father. The people around looked at him and saw the sin of his parents.

And then one day, a girl with deep red eyes looked fearlessly inside the bottomless pit of his empty eyes. No one but her ever looked at him in that way, saw him for who he truly was. She asked about his name, heeded his feelings, looked at his meaningless life and wanted to give him a purpose, give him the strength to keep going. _Eat_ , she said. _And if you don't have the money, steal, or sell your body. But that's filthy,_ had he objected. _What of it?_ was her simple answer. _Do not cling to society's preconceived ideas,_ she the time, he felt it was wrong. That wasn't right; virtue and evil and morals, those were notions to protect society, to keep the weak from falling.

But she went away and left him behind, leaving a single earring on the palm of one of his empty hands. _Find me_ , were her last words. The weight of loneliness crushed him that instant. The pleasure of being beside her, the warmness of her hand in his own, the joy of looking together at the world and seeing beauty he had always been unaware of.

 _I miss you,_ he thought, _I want to see you. I want to see you again, even if I am to get damned in the way._

And it was that way, he sullied himself as though there was no future, as though his being had no value. He stained his hands with blood, completely gave away his body. He lied, stole, and made a contract with every devil he found in his way. He inflicted upon himself the worst traumas, paying no mind to his wounds until he felt them no more. Until he forgot who he was and what he was doing and the meaning of that pain he was feeling. Until his wish was finally granted by a devil with red hair and red lips.

When he met her again, eight long years later, and in spite of any common sense, he took her in his arms, clung to her as though he was about to drown and she was his lifeline. And it was true in a sense, only he had actually drowned long ago. He had drowned and disappeared in the middle of a large body of water and he couldn't make himself out from it anymore.

 _This man is like water,_ said his dear's brother. _A frighteningly calm water that reflects perfectly the one if faces, never to allow anyone a glance at its true nature._

Those were frightening words that threw him in utter dismay.

Dear, beloved Lacie who found him. Cruel, cursed Lacie who lost him. As long as he was by her side, love and hate mixed and he felt himself existing. He could remember what he was, what it felt like to be human. He could feel all the extent of his abnormality, the depth of the pit he fell in. He would feel so filthy that he couldn't bring himself to touch Lacie, fearing he would sully her the same way he sullied himself during eight years. He felt disgusting and that brought him great relief at the thought he actually could still feel disgust towards such perversity.

The desire of seeing her just one more time evolved into the one of simply staying by her side. Staying by her side to find himself, nothing more. Lacie could very well marry another man, think of him as a game to kill time, he couldn't care less. Lacie's wishes were his own, he would share all her pain and sadness. He didn't love Lacie the way a man would love a woman, but the way a human would love the air he breathed.

And so, it was only natural that the day would come where he would suffocate. « Excuse me, could you say that one more time, Oswald ? »

« Lacie is dead. I killed her. »

He felt more than he saw something fall on the palm of his hand, an earring reminiscent of the day he lost her for the first time under the same winter sky. Not a sound left his lips, and unaware of the fact that he even moved, the empty man turned back and left towards his family's estate. There, he remained sitting in an empty room, his empty eyes gazing at his empty hands who would never hold anything for they destroyed everything. He couldn't see the world, and the world couldn't see him either. His own father never looked at him. His mother looked at him and saw his father. The people around looked at him and saw the sin of his parents. Lacie looked at him and someone had seen him for the first time. Then Lacie left, and in him, there was nothing left to be seen anymore.


End file.
